


A Good Man

by cenotaphs



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Protective Peter Burke, Team Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenotaphs/pseuds/cenotaphs
Summary: Keller's back and bored, which means it's time for some good old psychological torture. Luckily, he seems to have met his match.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	A Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story for White Collar, but I have two longer works in progress. I wanted to put out a one-shot and test the waters, see if I can pull these guys off. All notes, especially about character, are welcome. I know this story is kind of a trope, but. 
> 
> This is set, as most of my works probably will be, in an ephemeral period somewhere around season three.

The door opened, and Neal shot a grin around the room as he was pushed in, hands tied tight behind his back, arm aching from the tackle that took him down. 

“I’m rescuing you. This is a rescue.” 

The goon behind him shoved him a few more feet, and he stumbled and shot an irritated look behind him. 

If he had a camera he would have loved to take a picture of the way four faces looked up at him from inside that room, the exact same unimpressed look on each face. Jones and Diana were basically twins these days, but Peter and Elizabeth also sharing the look made Neal grin even as he was grabbed and hauled towards the wall they were seated up against. 

“Do we start swooning now, or...?” 

Neal was pushed by the shoulders, forced to sit down right on the other side of Diana. He smiled over at her, unbothered. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

The goon left, quiet as most goons tended to be. 

The minute the door was shut the levity drained out. 

Peter spoke first, terse. “Mozzie?” 

“Out of state until Friday, I had to try this on my own.” Neal leaned forward enough to be able to see the others. ”Whoever’s calling the shots here is good. All the more because I have no idea who it actually is.” 

“Us either. Not yet. But they’re not storing us here for our health, so...” 

It would be soon. Neal traded looks with Peter and then leaned back, squirming to get comfortable. The way his hands were tied – tight at the wrists, and then wound down over his hands to stop any kind of movement at all - it would be easy to cut off circulation and be useless by the time something actually happened. 

He was pleased just to have eyes on Peter and Elizabeth. It had been a scary thing, Peter not showing up for work. The man was never late, much less absent without excuse. Scarier when Diana drove Neal to Peter’s place and they found it ransacked, with no hint of Peter or Elizabeth. There were signs that they had been forced out of bed to go along with whoever had taken them. 

Jones and Diana had followed a clue a few hours ago, and then they had vanished. 

Neal did the stupid thing and followed that same clue, thinking his own tactics would give him a win where the agents were all failing. 

And here they were. 

“Everyone’s okay?” he asked Diana quietly. 

“Peter’s pissed, but they’re fine.” She shot him a look, a grimace. “It’s hard when this stuff comes into our homes.” 

Neal nodded. It was a dark thought, the idea of waking up in your own home with gunmen standing over your bed. 

Still, he could deal with anger and paranoia, as long as nobody was really hurt. “Well. Hughes is counting on me to bring all his ducklings home, so...” 

The door opened. Neal looked over along with the others, wondering if he was now the fifth member of the pack to share one single expression. 

No. He knew he wasn’t the moment he saw who walked cheerfully through the door and surveyed the group. 

“Keller.” He resisted looking over at Peter, but just barely. 

Matthew Keller was the thorn that just would not come out of Neal’s paw, no matter how hard he tried. Being arrested hadn’t even slowed Keller down, and he’d personally pissed off most of the people in that room. 

Whatever he was planning now couldn’t have been good. On the plus side, he tended to be singular in his focus, and most of his aggression tended to come Neal’s way. Neal could work with that, get Keller all aggressive and temperamental while Peter agented their way out of this somehow. 

Keller looked over the group of them, smug as ever. “What a useful fishing trip.” 

“You’re back in town.” Peter spoke through a tight jaw. “How nice.” 

“What do you want this time?” Neal leaned back, pressing at his bound hands to see how much give he had. 

Not a lot. Damn it. 

“I feel oddly unwelcomed.” Keller’s eyes flitted Neal’s way but didn't linger. “If anyone wants to give me the ‘you kidnapped federal agents, prepare for the might of the government’ speech next, feel free. It’s one of my favorites. I always did like the classics.” He winked over at Neal. 

“Listen, Keller, tell me what your plan is, we’ll give you a shot to get it going before we haul you in again.” 

Keller moved in a few feet, coming Neal’s way, with that familiar crooked smile and squinted gaze. “Neal, Neal, Neal. You and me, we used to be so tight. I used to know you as well as anybody could. Got boring, frankly, after a while.” He crouched a foot from Neal and gestured at his ankle. “Then this happened, and you changed, and then you were interesting again. I wanted to figure you out, the new you. And I have. So now you’re boring again.” 

He got to his feet. 

Neal huffed a breath, letting nothing but mild offense show on his face. “Rude.” 

“See, I get how you think. You’re a high-class whore. Same as me, just I don’t act the part the way you do. Now you have a different pimp, so the things you’re being forced to do are a little different. Watching the change was interesting, for a minute. But it’s not all that hard to figure out.” He smiled further down the room. “Now  _ you.”  _ He crouched again. 

Right in front of Peter. 

“You. You got on my radar the last time around, Agent Burke. Neal I understand. You? I dismissed you for a long time: another Fed. Another cop. I’ve known a million of ‘em. You were smarter than most, but nothing special.” 

Neal leaned past Diana enough to look at Peter. 

He was sitting back, looking utterly underwhelmed. Still tense, and he would be tense as long as Elizabeth was tied up beside him. But he was keeping his cool. 

“You’ve got the wife, the dog, the mortgage. You should be the most boring man in the universe. But you’re not.” Keller studied him in an intent, fascinated way that his casual words almost hid. “You’re a straight shooter, and I respect that. You’re honest, but you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty. You turned Caffrey into a choir boy, it takes a hell of a man to do that.” 

“Are you anywhere near getting to a point?” Peter asked blandly. 

Neal bit back a smile. 

Keller didn’t bite his back. “I want to know how you work. I want to understand you. So, I have a little test set up. You know what, come here.” He moved in, going to Peter’s side and grabbing his arm. “Up, Burke, come on.” 

Peter got to his feet awkwardly, unable to use his arms. He stretched out his spine, rolled his shoulders, and Neal figured he and Elizabeth had been there like that for hours. 

“C’mere. Come on.” Keller nudged him out in front of the rest of them, turning so the two of them faced the group together. “Okay, listen. In fifteen minutes, I’m putting a bullet in one of these people’s heads.” 

All eyes snapped to Keller’s face, including Peter’s. 

“Simple as that. Somebody in this room isn’t getting out of this alive. That’s the stakes. So let’s take a look at who we have. We have the lovely Mrs. Burke. I’m guessing she’s safe from consideration, but she does look tough. Like someone you shouldn’t underestimate. I hear you two have a real solid marriage, that’s nice.” 

Peter turned his dark gaze to Keller. 

“Then we have the junior agents. Good kids, I’m sure. They obviously respect the hell out of you. Maybe they’ll volunteer for this. I’m putting money on the big guy, since the lady there has a gal at home who might miss her.” 

Diana drew in a breath but didn’t react beyond that. 

Neal schooled his face as Keller’s eyes moved to him next. 

“And then, last and least. Neal Caffrey, barely reformed life-long criminal. Selfish brat, but you’ve done a number on him, so who knows? He’s done good work for you, but does he deserve to live? More than these other folks?” 

Peter faced Keller. “This isn’t the kind of game I’m willing to play.” 

Keller smiled. “Yeah, I didn’t think it would be. So I have incentive. I’m gonna give you a solid ten minutes to decide which one of these lovely people isn’t walking out of here. If you don’t choose anyone, your wife and Caffrey both get the bullets.” 

Peter charged at him. 

Keller, who obviously wasn’t expecting it, took a shoulder right in the chest, and got knocked off his feet. He flew backwards, Peter right behind him. 

But Keller’s hired goons came through the door fast, guns out and pointed at the other hostages. Of course Keller had planned for this. Keller planned for everything. 

“Peter,” Jones said sharply. 

Peter looked over, ready to plant his foot in Keller’s gut. But he saw the guns aimed at the captives and he stopped, moving away from Keller in frustration. 

“Well, Agent Burke. A little emotional, but I guess that means you get the gist of the game.” Keller pushed himself up, rubbing at the spot on his chest where Peter had rammed him. “Gets the blood pumping. Your objection to the stakes has been noted. Now I’ll leave you to talk amongst yourselves.” 

He gestured gracelessly, and his men filed out. He was last to go and shot a grin Peter’s way before the door shut. 

Neal pushed to his feet, sliding up the wall to get his balance. He spoke before anyone else could. “Listen. Keller and his mind games...the whole point is to watch us tear each other apart without him ever having to lift a finger. He’s a chess player, he likes controlling the board. He wants the pawns to take each other out without his help. Keep that in mind.” 

“Fine,” Diana said sharply. “But is he serious? Is this only a mind game?” 

Neal glanced at Peter. “Keller doesn’t bluff.” 

Peter looked back, equally grim. “He’s dangerous. He enjoys the game more than anything, but if he threatens then he plans to see it through.” 

“So. Where does that leave us?” Clinton looked between the two of them. “We know it’s a game, but it sounds like we still have to play it.” 

The room went quiet. 

Peter shrugged after a minute. “This isn’t the kind of thing we do. We don’t barter people’s lives, and nobody in this room is expendable. End of story.” 

“Right.” Neal nodded. “Which is why you’re gonna pick me.” 

Peter blinked over at him. “It’s like you don’t listen to a word I say.” 

“I listen, but Keller set the terms. You pick one person, or me and Elizabeth die anyway. Pick me, you’re saving Elizabeth. That’s the straightest way to go here.” 

Peter studied him. “Do you think you can talk him out of killing you?” 

Neal laughed. “You heard him; he’s bored with me now. Worst thing you can be to Keller is boring. Either we find a way out of here or I’m toast. End of story.” 

“Wait a second.” 

All eyes went to Elizabeth. 

She was looking around at them all, brow furrowed, but as calm as ever. “You’re saying this guy is really going to kill one of us. And Peter has to pick who. And that’s that?” 

Neal turned to Peter. “We know it’s not gonna be El. That goes without saying.” 

Peter peered at him, maybe offended Neal would even state it out loud. 

“What? Why?” She awkwardly got up on her knees. “I mean I appreciate the thought but Peter’s right. Nobody here is disposable.” 

“You’re not an agent, El. You have nothing to do with Keller and his revenge fantasies.” 

“Obviously I do, because I’m right here with you.” 

“You’re not an option.” 

“None of this is an option,” Peter said finally, voice firm. “We’re going to get out of here.” 

“Right.” Diana pushed to her feet, somehow graceful with it unlike the rest of them. “We’re all tied the same way, I’m guessing. Can anyone move their hands?” 

That was a negative. Keller would have directed his hired goons down to the exact positioning of the ropes, though, so Neal wasn’t surprised. 

Still, it didn’t bode well for escape. 

“Pockets? Anyone have anything on them that might help?” 

“We were all searched,” Clinton answered Neal. “We already went through this before you joined us.” 

Neal looked around, but the room was empty. No furniture, nothing on the walls, no windows. A light, but the ceiling had to be a good ten feet, so it was out of their reach. Maybe they could get the door open, but Keller and his goons were waiting out there, armed and ready. 

“Think we could tunnel through the drywall somehow?” he asked, only mostly sardonic. 

“What about Neal?” Elizabeth spoke after a beat. “His anklet?” 

“It’s up and running,” Neal said, looking down at his foot as if visual confirmation might give him some good idea how to use it. 

“But he’s cleared to be out in the field with us today,” Diana said. “Nobody will bother checking his location until we don’t show up in the office. That will take more than fifteen minutes.” 

“What if it breaks?” Elizabeth asked, carefully getting to her feet to join the rest of them. 

Neal grimaced. “This thing is designed to be as close to unbreakable as possible. We could take a hammer to it and not make a dent. Only way to set it off is to cut it, and we’d need both a blade and free hands for that.” 

A frustrated silence fell. 

Neal looked around at everyone, feeling oddly grateful. 

He knew how this was going to go. It was inevitable. They would rationalize and fight and Peter would do everything he could until the very last moment to deny it would happen...then he would pick Neal. 

It was the only solution that made sense. Neal needed to come to terms with that, so that when the moment came he’d be okay with it. 

Maybe he  _ could  _ talk Keller out of a bullet. Maybe the game itself, the choice, would end up being interesting enough to satisfy him. Keller had a hell of an ego, that could always be appealed to. If Neal had a voice to use, he had a chance at escape. He learned that a long time ago. 

“Peter.” 

Everyone looked over at Jones when he spoke. 

He straightened up, standing tall, and met Peter’s eyes. “I’m volunteering.” 

“No.” Peter’s answer was instant and firm. 

Clinton shook his head. “Keller was right. Diana’s got Christie at home. I don’t have family here. If it’s going to be one of us, it should be me.” 

“That is bullshit,” Diana hissed out, facing her partner with heat in her eyes. “You’re not allowed to play martyr just because I have a girlfriend.” She turned to Peter. “Pick me, boss. It’s fine.” 

“Diana, come on. You know this makes sense.” 

“Nothing about this makes sense!” 

Clinton stared her down. “Fine, this is bullshit, you’re right. But it’s gonna be bullshit no matter which of us it is. Let me do this.” 

“Let you  _ die _ ? Are you serious?” 

Neal cleared his throat, and both glares turned his way. “It’s not going to be either one of you. Peter and I both know that.” 

Peter, on the other side of his two fighting agents, turned away from them all. 

“Listen, Caffrey.” Diana spoke after a moment. “As much as I’d love to be able to rationalize your murder because you were once a bad guy, that’s not how this works.” 

“Exactly.” Jones moved to her side so they could face him down together. “Diana and I chose this job. We walk out the door every morning knowing there’s a chance we might not make it home. You’re a civilian. Doesn’t matter how morally gray you are, our job is to get between you and a bullet.” 

Their vehemence, and the fact that they were joined on this without even missing a beat, did something to Neal’s insides. He and Peter were close, but he’d never stopped to think whether Diana and Clinton considered him anything but a headache. 

He swallowed, and hoped his voice came out steady. “I appreciate that. Really. But Keller is my past, my fault. I signed up for this CI thing to pay for my mistakes. He’s one of them. I’ll pay.” 

Their grimness was starting to eat at his confidence. It was likely that he was literally volunteering to die. Bullet in the head, end of story. No more June or Moz, no more art, no more schemes, no chance to see Paris again, or Barcelona. No sipping wine against a sunset watching the waves on some Mediterranean shore. 

No freedom. He’d die with the tracker on. 

But maybe that was okay. He could admit, with Keller’s deadline staring them in the face, that he was a better man with that weight on his ankle. With Peter, with the two agents staring at him trying to find ways to dismantle his argument. 

He cared about these people. That was a rock in his gut suddenly, that realization. Peter he had regarded as a friend for quite a while. Elizabeth he’d adored since their first meeting. Diana and Clinton, though...Neal would walk into Keller’s bullet for either of them. That was a revelation. 

A nice one, because now he knew that they would do the same for him. 

Keller could be snide about Neal becoming a choir boy, being neutered, whatever. But he had never had relationships like this in his old life. Even Moz, who was Neal’s oldest friend. Before the CI deal they had been partners in crime. In Neal’s new life, the one he was maturing to fit into, they had become genuine friends. If Mozzie was in that room he’d have been putting in his arguments same as the rest of them. 

And Neal would gladly step in front of him, too. 

It was a little overwhelming, realizing all this. He was about to lose it, to lose everything, and that reeked of dramatic irony. To only realize he had friends like these in the minutes before losing them. Dostoyevsky-level stuff right there. 

“Hon?” Elizabeth’s voice was soft but carried in the small room. 

Neal looked past Diana and Clinton. Peter’s back was to them, his head bowed. His shoulders were rising and falling deep and fast with his breathing. 

God, Peter. Keller was hurting Peter far deeper than he knew, making him the spokesman in this. 

Elizabeth went to her husband’s side. They couldn’t touch, but she leaned up on her toes and pressed her forehead to his. “Hon. We’re all with you. This isn’t your fault. Whatever happens, nobody in this room will blame you for it.” 

Peter’s indrawn breath was audible. 

Neal sank back against the wall, guilt sizzling up his chest like the worst case of heartburn. “She’s right,” he said. “This is all Keller. This isn’t you.” 

“We’re with you, boss. No matter what.” 

Peter pressed a kiss to Elizabeth’s temple, then drew back. He didn’t look at anyone. “Can everyone just stop talking now?” 

Nobody had the heart to argue. 

They’d made their cases. It was cosmically unfair that the end decision lay with Peter. It was going to hurt him in a way he might not ever recover from. 

Peter Burke was a good man. Neal had traveled the world ten times over, and he knew better than anyone that truly  _ good  _ people were rare. Peter believed in rightness and morality in a way that Neal never had, and if he held Neal to rigid standards it was only because he held everyone to them. Himself included. 

He was too good a man to absolve himself from something like this, no matter how truly unfair that was. 

Neal went back to the back wall and sat, calm in a way he hadn’t been since he first realized Peter was missing. 

He was ready. For Peter he would go without complaint, with his chin held high and a smile on his face. And Keller would never understand it, the way he would never understand Peter. He knew it would hurt Peter in a real, intrinsic way to make the call, but with Elizabeth and Diana and Clinton to help him through it, he’d be fine. He’d recover. 

He’d remember Neal. He’d visit his grave, tell stories about him. It was a nice thought. Neal had become the kind of man people would mourn for. 

Diana made her way back to the wall. She sat. 

After a minute, Jones joined her. 

Elizabeth stayed near Peter, not speaking again but being whatever comfort she could. She knew more than anyone, more than Neal, the toll this would take on her husband. 

It wasn’t very long before the door opened again, and Keller came striding in, downright giddy. “You know, I’m a little early, but I just can’t take it anymore. You people, you’re truly amazing. Any other group would have been throwing each other under the bus this whole time, and you’re all begging to be murdered. It’s  _ art.  _ It really is.” 

Of course he’d been listening. Of course he had the place wired. There was probably a camera, maybe up in the light fixture. Neal felt offended somehow. Invaded. 

Keller’s grin turned Neal’s way. “I think I get it, a little better than I did. All those times we were partners, you never would have made any sacrifice plays for me. And I’d’ve left you to rot, let’s be honest. So I get what you see in this life. I don’t respect it, but I get it.” 

Neal met his eyes. “I’m going to haunt you until the day you join me in hell, Keller.” 

Keller laughed. “I’m so turned on right now. Okay, Burke. Let’s do this.” He turned to Peter cheerfully, rubbing his hands together. “They all made pretty good cases, I’d say. But it’s your choice. Am I taking the wife, the boyfriend, or one of the two kids?” 

Peter drew in a breath and let it out. He turned to face Keller, and his face was utterly calm. His gaze moved through the room, landing on all of them in turn, and when he met Neal’s eyes he smiled faintly. 

Neal went cold, suddenly knowing exactly what Peter’s answer would be. 

“Me.” 

Elizabeth sank back a step, her face draining of color. 

Keller blinked, head cocking to the side. “That’s cheating.” 

“You said one person in this room. You never said I couldn’t pick myself.” 

Keller thought back as if he was going to argue, but his eyes were delighted. “Okay, it was definitely implied.” 

“Serves you right. You should never leave loopholes. Now let’s go.” 

“Peter!” Neal got up on his knees awkwardly. “No, this isn’t--” 

“Honey, please. Wait.” Elizabeth moved in, tears already sliding down her face. 

“Keller. Clock’s ticking.” Peter ignored them both, though his eyes shifted back like he wanted to at least look at Elizabeth one last time. 

“You know, Burke...” Keller huffed a breath, but shrugged. “You got me. I’m a little in love with you right now, but you win. Let’s get a look at that big brain of yours up close and personal.” 

Diana lunged to her feet, murder in her eyes. “Keller, you son of a bitch!” 

But Keller was already headed out the door, and Peter was striding out right behind him. 

The door shut. 

Neal stared at it, head shaking, in denial. “Okay, wait. No.” He looked at the others, saw his shock on their faces. Saw Elizabeth, on her feet by the far wall, white faced, silent tears falling as she stared at the door. 

Saw her flinch, just as he did, the moment the gun fired outside that door. 

And then there was silence. 

* * *

He groaned audibly, reaching for the throbbing pain in his head before he even opened his eyes. 

Something gripped his hand fast and stopped it. “Easy, hon. You’ve got an IV in.” 

IV? Peter groaned again. Hospital. Great. But El was there and he was obviously not dying, even if his head was splitting hard enough to make him wish he was. 

“Hurts,” he murmured, eyes still closed, face turning towards El’s voice. 

“I know. Here.” She shifted, made something beep faintly. “Morphine. Give it a minute.” 

“What happened?” 

“You don’t remember? Keller, putting us all in that room?” 

Peter frowned. Keller. 

His eyes snapped open, and he regretted it instantly. Even the thin slice of light that made it in before they shut again made his brain throb. “Ow.” 

“So you do remember.” El sounded amused. 

“Yeah.” His brow furrowed. “He shot me?” 

“Pistol-whipped,” came a new voice, equally familiar. Peter heard shifting a few feet away, and then footsteps, and then Neal was at his other side. “And then he fired the gun anyway, to make us think you were dead.” 

“Oh.” Peter forced his eyes opened again at that, ignoring the pain to reach for his wife. “El. Honey.” 

She gripped his hand tightly. She was calm, but her eyes were red and darkly shadowed. “It was bad,” she said quietly. 

“It was,” Neal agreed. “We were stuck in that room another hour at least. Keller called in a tip telling Hughes where to find us.” 

Peter grimaced. “He got away.” 

“Oh, it’s even worse than that. He got away with a three-million-dollar slab of jade artwork.” 

Peter blinked over at Neal, but after a moment he understood. “Kidnapping us was a distraction.” 

Neal nodded. He looked a little tired and red-eyed himself. “The whole game kept him amused, I guess, but while the FBI and the NYPD were looking for us, he had some new partner out robbing a transport truck outside the Smithsonian.” 

Well. That made more sense than Keller screwing with them for the hell of it. He was a crazy fucker, but he never did anything without a profit in mind. 

Peter let out a breath, letting his eyes close again. The morphine must have been kicking in, because the ache in the back of his head was dying down a little. “I’m starting to think I should make the hunt for him full-time. Hughes might sign off on that after this.” 

Neal nodded, but twitches in his expression told Peter he hated the idea. A lot. 

El squeezed his hand. “Just rest, hon, you can plan massive manhunts later. You’ve got a concussion.” 

“Of course I do.” That meant the next few weeks of his life were going to be awful, and he’d be riding a desk for even longer. Peter sighed. “Everybody else okay?” 

“A little shaken up. If you could keep your eyes open for more than five seconds, you’d see for yourself.” 

Peter never could resist one of Neal’s challenges. He pried his eyes open, relieved when the morphine made it less than agonizing. 

His mouth twitched up when he saw Diana and Jones sacked out in chairs against the wall, leaning on each other as they slept. 

“You’re going to have to deal with us being a little clingy for the next few days, I think. But we’re okay.” 

Peter looked back up at Neal. “Hey, I saved you from a concussion, you should be grateful.” 

Neal’s smile went crooked. “I think if you’d picked me, he really would have shot me. He’s too interested in you right now to let you die. That’s not a good thing.” 

“No.” Peter dropped back against the pillow. He sighed. “I can’t imagine why, though.” 

“You’re just asshole catnip, Peter.” Neal’s voice was light. Artificial, though. Peter could always tell. “Guys like me and Keller, we’re--” 

“Hey. You and Keller do not belong in the same category. You never did.” 

Neal’s face twisted, and he fell silent. His hand dropped to rest on Peter’s arm. 

“Honey. What you did...” Elizabeth shifted, sitting lightly at the edge of his bed. “Choosing yourself...” 

Peter wanted to reassure her. The pain in her eyes was everything he worked to avoid in his life, and it killed him to see it then. “I’m sorry you had to be a part of it, hon,” he said. “But there was never going to be a different choice. I knew that from the start.” 

She tried to smile. “I think I did, too.” 

Neal nodded, eyes shadowed. 

“It’s why I love you, Peter,” Elizabeth went on. “And it terrifies the hell out of me.” 

Peter humphed a laughed, faint. “I only did what everyone else in that room was trying to do. Doesn’t make me a hero.” 

“Maybe not.” She smiled sadly. “But you are one, all the same.” 

Neal spoke suddenly, voice rushed, as if he was trying to hold on to the words but couldn’t. “What if he really had specified that you couldn’t pick yourself?” 

He looked sorry for the words the moment he spoke them. 

Peter was going to have nightmares about that exact scenario, he already knew it. Next time Keller wanted to test him, he would be more specific. He wouldn’t give Peter an out. 

He shut his eyes and tried to let the morphine take him over. There was no answer to give, and he knew Neal wouldn’t push for one. 

Peter tried his absolute best in life to do what was right. Neal had helped him learn that there were more shades of gray to ‘right’ than he once thought, but even then he always struggled to keep his hands as clean as possible. 

There was no ‘right’ in Keller’s test. There was no ‘right’ to a lot of things in life. 

That was one of the many differences between Neal and Keller. Neal’s skewed sense of right and wrong helped Peter more fully develop his own. Keller’s...Keller’s would make Peter lose sight of who he was as a person if he were exposed to it for too long. 

“It’s okay, hon.” El’s fingers smoothed down his cheek, light and careful. “Get some rest. Moral quandaries can wait for another day.” 

Neal’s hand tightened on Peter’s arm silently. Apologetic, Peter thought. 

Peter smiled his way into morphine dreams. 

  
  



End file.
